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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Why, ma'am, may I speak out?" he asked, and without waiting for leave he gave a full account of the loss of Susan's guinea-fowl, of Rose's visit to Barbara, and of Barbara's greedy and cruel conduct. Barbara denied all that Philip said, and told quite another tale. When she could find no more to say she blushed deeply, for she saw that her story was not believed.
If you have any objections on the score of propriety, we will talk about them to-morrow;" and our hero looked so saucy and so resolute that there was no disputing further; so, after a little more lingering and blushing on Susan's part, and a few kisses and persuasions on the part of the suitor, Miss Susan seemed to be brought to a state of resignation.
"I'm not much of an angel," she said with a sigh, throwing her hat and coat down beside Susan's, and assuming a somewhat spotted serge skirt, and a limp silk waist a trifle too small for her generous proportions.
Susan's escort leaned toward her and said in a low tone, "The two at the next table the woman's Mary Rigsdall, the actress, and the man's Brent, the fellow who writes plays." Then in a less cautious tone, "What are you drinking?" "What are you drinking?" asked Susan, still covertly watching Brent. "You are going to dine with me?" "I've no engagement."
A perfect storm of cheers and applause followed this last sentence, in the midst of which there were cries of "You're floored, Burke! Hurrah for Bumpus! Cut the ropes!" But although John's life was now safe, his indignation at Susan's letter having been laughed at was not altogether allayed. "I'll tell ye wot it is," said he, the instant there was a lull in the uproar of voices.
The Republicans financed a paper, Woman's Campaign, edited by Helen Barnard, which published some of Susan's speeches and which Susan for a time hoped to convert into a woman suffrage paper. Harper, Anthony, I, p. 422. Ibid.
Susan leaned beside him at the rail, her color was coming back, but she saw nothing and heard nothing of what went on about her. "What's he doing that for?" she asked suddenly. For a blue-clad coolie was working his way through the crowded docks, banging violently on a gong. The sound disturbed Susan's overstrained nerves. "I don't know," said Stephen. "Lunch perhaps.
A girl named Clara, who lived across the hall, was sitting in a rocking-chair in a nightgown, reading a Bertha Clay novel and smoking a cigarette. She glanced up, was arrested by the strange look in Susan's eyes. "Hello been hitting the pipe, I see," said she. "Down in Gussie's room?" "No. A lobbygow," said Susan. "Did he get much?" "About thirty-five." "The !" cried Clara.
"Rose ran away with it, mother, but I'll run after her, and bring it back to you this minute," said Susan. Susan found her friend Rose at the hawthorn, in the midst of a crowd of children, to whom she was reading "Susan's Lamentation for her Lamb." "The words are something, but the tune the tune I must have the tune," cried Philip.
Susan's head ached, her face burned, her thoughts were in a mad whirl. What to do what to do what to do ! How to get out of this tangle; where to go to begin again, away from these people who knew her and loved her, and would drive her mad with their sympathy and curiosity! The clock struck three four five.
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